Untouchable
by ags
Summary: How do you know when to keep holding on, or to let go? (One Direction Fanfic. Feat. Harry Styles & OC)
1. Chapter 1

**burning brighter than the sun.**

Two hours.

Jasmine knew she shouldn't, but she looked at her watch again for the hundredth time that night and mentally cursed when she saw that it was now exactly 10 PM.

Two hours.

She breathed in and breathed out. She was trying so hard to stay calm. _I'll be there, I promise_. He promised.

Two hours.

This was even worse than the last time, she bitterly thought. _Hi, you've reached–_ At least the last time he had the decency to pick up his phone.

Two hours.

Three unfinished upcoming overnight shift at the cafè. week. She thought about all of the things she had left neglected for this; all in vain.

Two hours.

She grew tired of acknowledging the pity looks from the waitress across the room – who had stop asking for her order an hour ago – so Jasmine fixed her eyes on her lap, only to be painfully reminded that she had bought the brand new little black dress she was wearing just for the occasion; the kind that she knew he would like.

Two hours.

She thought about his dimples and his aggravating jokes. She thought about his loud laughs and his pointless stories. She thought about his lingering scent that was left on her skin for days whenever she got to touch him even just a little bit. She thought about his messy curls and his ugly boots. She thought about his midnight calls, _help me sleep Jasmee, _he would always say. She thought about his green, comforting orbs and how she missed them the most. She thought about him all the time and yet she couldn't remember when was the last time she saw him; he felt like a lost memory, she thought, especially now.

Two hours.

Her phone vibrated silently on her lap and unexpectedly the name Louis Tomlinson flashed across it; Jasmine knew instantly what she was about to hear.

"Jas. _Jasmine_. Oh my God. _I'm so so sorry_. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I've been trying to reach you all day, but my phone wont _fucking turn on._ There seems to be a problem with everyone else's too because they won't catch any reception here. I was desperate to reach you earlier I swear. _Dear God I'm so so sorry Jas._"

"They wanted us to leave early Jas. Tonight. They wanted us to perform a surprise show in New York first before we head out to Japan. I'd begged them to spare me just a couple hours more here, to let me catch the first flight tomorrow morning or something, but they had already booked the flight and hotels and the management wanted us to leave together. I've tried to reach you earlier today, but they needed me here all the time and my phone was just being a piece of shit and _God _I know you've probably waited for me there forever. God, I'm so so sorry Jas, _I'm so_ – "

Click.

_Two hours._

Jasmine was still fucking surprise how much it could hurt no matter how many times it had happened before. His words felt like a black hole inside her heart; it was sucking all of her insides by force, turning and lurching, until Jasmine could feel nothing else but blunt hollowness.

_Two hours._

She should've yelled. She should've cursed. She should've told him about the piles of assignments she had neglected or the little black dress he didn't get to see or how she hadn't eaten anything since noon. She should've shout at him and called him names and told him to go to hell because she was sick of getting stood up _all the time_.

But she didn't.

Instead she told him that she understood and to have a safe trip; what's done was done.

_Two hours._

She tried to act nonchalant when Sam asked her how dinner went. Jasmine knew she wasn't fooling anyone though because after that Sam tried to subtlety leave whatever she was doing then and went to make her toasts and a cup of tea. Jasmine did feel a little bit better for that, but it didn't last.

_Two hours._

Her bedroom walls were covered in endless of pointless polaroid pictures; her dogs, her house, parks and beaches in summer, wet snow in winter – but off course her eyes just had to catch that one picture of him. _The only_ one; his face childlike, his lips parted, his eyes grinning – the side of him that made her loose control over her own heart.

It wasn't fair, she thought.

It wasn't fait to love someone this much that it hurt and it stung and it ached in the worst ways possible.

It wasn't fair to have him being ripped away from her all the time.

_Two hours_

An hour before dawn Jasmine was one sentence away from finishing her 1000 words essay. Her eyelids were heavy and her limbs were unpleasently stiff when she noticed her phone screen flashed.

_I love you Jasmee. Sorry for everything._

Her throat tightened and she felt hot tears forming behind her eyes; she could almost hear him. She could almost see him standing there in front of her, looking as sad and as shitty as she was.

One single tear managed to dropped down her cheek and Jasmine wiped it away furiously; she had learned, one too many times, that crying about it would change nothing.

She turned off her phone. She was not going to text him back.

Because for the first time in two years Jasmine found herself grasping the hard, cold truth: their world were getting farther and farther apart and no one was to blame.

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**Hi there. I've not used this site for a quite while and now I'm thinking of giving it a go :) **

**Here is my first story (of one direction because I'm currently super obsessed with them LIKE CRAAY. ehm.) and to you who reads it: thank you hope you enjoy it, would love to hear your thoughts on it :)**

**xx. ags**


	2. Chapter 2

**but if you loved me, why did you leave me?**

Ten months.

He really missed driving. All those endless days and months he spent in the luxurious tour bus and private planes were starting to make him feel paralyzed. So, he thought, when he got off the plane and out of the airport he was going to ask Alan, his assigned driver for the day, for the car keys and drive home alone. A couple of hundred pounds for Alan wouldn't hurt, he decided.

Ten months.

It was slightly raining and windy outside. Harry sped through the empty highway and reached the heart of London in no time; for once he was glad to see the awaiting city traffic. He turned on the radio and he heard Nick Grimshaw's familiar voice, complaining pointlessly about London's continuous gloomy weather. Harry smiled a little; he was home.

Ten months.

A world tour.A new fragrance. A new movie: done. A new Award performances. Stadium tours: all in the future. His life was a whirlwind of exquisite life experiences and he should be content.

Why was he not?

_Be grateful you whiny prick. _Harry heard himself say.

Ten months.

He wondered what he should do first. He had half a mind to call Nick, he had missed his loud company, but erased the thought rather quickly because he decided that he wasn't in the mood for pints and loud pointless conversations with Nick's never ending A-list friends. He could call his mum and tell her that he's back.

_Later. _He thought. It was much too late to drive back to Holmes Chapel now anyway.

Ten months.

What should he do then?

Ten months.

_Don't think about it._ He grew tired of telling himself that.

Ten months.

Has it really been ten months?

Ten months.

It was rather ironic really, he thought, all those endless days and months he talked about missing home but now that he was back he didn't know what to do with himself.

Ten months.

_Be happy. Be excited. You can finally eat mum's cooking again and wake up anytime and sleep anytime and do nothing all day and play that new xbox game Gemma gave for Christmas last year._

The thing was though, there was a hole in his chest, the size of a milky way.

Ten months.

He saw that it was now 06:04 PM. The traffic was slowly dissipating as he weaved further into the city. He saw Nandos around the corner, he passed the city park he used to spent hours having picnics on hot summer days, he saw the classic English pub he usually went to with Nick on Saturday nights; everything stayed the same, nothing had changed much and yet Harry felt lost.

_Ten months._

There was an intersection at the end of the road and Harry found himself dreading it. He willed himself to make a right because that was the way to his house; that was the way that he should go. His hands, however, were stirring the wheel to the left before he could understand what he was doing.

_Bloody idiot. _Harry was furious with himself.

Because see, left was the way to everything that he had been trying to forget.

_Ten months._

_"Harry, I can't sleep."_

"_Harry, I miss you."_

"_Harry, when are you coming back?"_

"_Harry, you're jokes are the lamest."_

"_Harry, I miss you."_

"_Harry, I can't sleep."_

Once it started Harry couldn't stop it.

Her voice, her demeanor, her presence; they all lingered on the abandoned corner of his chest and Harry could feel them destroying what was left of him.

Memories of memories lit his skin on fire, he wasn't sure anymore if they were real.

_"Harry, I don't think I can do this anymore."_

_Ten months._

There was this café in the corner of the street. It was modest and low-profile; there was nothing special about it. But if you sit on the right corner, the light would shine through its glass windows just right every sunset.

Harry used to stop by there every morning whenever he was in town. It was much too ordinary for his taste, but it had a very calming vibe and it never seemed to have more than five costumers at a time, which he found rather comforting. And plus, they serve excellent dry cappuccinos.

_Ten months._

She worked there. He knew that.

_Then turn around you bloody fool._

Harry wondered sometimes, why is it that he never listened to himself?

_Ten months._

06.15 PM.

She'd still be there.

If he stopped there and got inside, he would see her because she'd till be there.

Her shift didn't end until 8 PM.

He would see her. Her brown curls, her piercing honey eyes, her soft smile.

She would see him. Dull and tired and broken.

He drove past it and he found it rather depressing that a mere simple action could make his heart rumbled so painfully.

_Ten months._

The unpleasant knot in his stomach was becoming unbearable and Harry suddenly had the urge to tell someone, just anyone, that he was back.

He fiddled with his phone and pressed one of his speed dials.

"Mum? Guess who's back.

* * *

**Hi again :) Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave a review, comment or even criticism!**

**xx. ags**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm reaching out and I just can't tell you why**

_August 13th, 2012_

Jasmine could hear Radiohead being played on repeat as she maneuvered through the mostly intoxicated crowd (that mainly consisted of stressed uni students looking for an ultimate get away).

Her left hand was holding a bottle of beer that was barely full and even though it was nearing its end the summer air was still boldly present, hot and sticky, and Jasmine could feel a pea sized sweat dripping slowly down her left cheek.

From the corner of her eyes she saw Sam taking yet another tequila body shot in the middle of the huge living room, where the main commotion seemed to be taking place, with a cheering crowd who were carelessly using unnecessary profanities as their anthem as the audience.

Jasmine chuckled upon seeing this and that was when she realized that she herself wasn't entirely in control of her own mind either.

The further she walked into the high class mansion the more she was able to spot familiar faces. Jake Brown, the American exchange student, exchanging a passionate mouth to mouth with Ashley Hughes, the campus' epitome of a dumb blonde (who ironically was not even blonde). Her co-worker at the café, Matthew Cross, who seemed to be getting higher than the empire state ('like the song!' Jasmine actually thought and giggled out loud) confirmed by his laughing hysterically at the tv – that was blank. Maxwell Wright, one of her classmates, who looked like a hungry wolf playing with its food while seducing an oblivious newbie (poor girl) – he gave Jasmine a flirtatious wink when they shared an eye contact. Jasmine could only roll her eyes; even with her current intoxicated state she was not going to fall for some cheap, cliché charm of the male population.

Little did she know that the same could not be said to the person she was about to see when she took another three steps further into the house.

Spotted amongst the amidst of intoxicated uni students was Harry Styles, the person she had only met twice before, both under similar circumstances. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and an unbuttoned flannel over his white tank top; for a moment he looked like he could fit in there, if not for the fact that Jasmine saw his face literally everywhere around London on a daily basis.

He was talking to Andrew Frost – another of Jasmine's classmates and the owner of the mansion – when she spotted him, his left hand tucked into his jeans pocket with the same bottle of beer that she was currently holding reaching his lips ocassionally. Jasmine only realised she was staring when she saw him curiously turning his gaze to her diretion, sensing her attention.

She did not know what to expect – but he grin at her and gave her a small wave, his eyes litting up – and Jasmine felt herself made her way towards him, suddenly giddy and nervous at the same time.

"Crashing another uni party I see, what's the matter Styles, Nick Grimshaw's A list parties aren't doing it for you anymore and you're looking for something more dangerous?"

To her surprise, he laughed and Jasmine was finding it so hard not to notice how deep the dimples on his cheeks were.

"I'm starting to be able to tell how drunk you are just by judging on your wittiness level, do you know? And I must say, the more time I run into you the drunker you seem to get."

He was standing really close and Jasmine could smell his authentic scent (the weird combination between his cologne, fresh soap and mint toothpaste) which she was strangely getting fond of. She didn't know if it was the alcohol in her blood system taking control but she felt her body temperature heating up, warm and fuzzy, and she suddenly felt happy. He spoke again before Jasmine could find the right to say; she found that she was thinking a little too hard.

"But hey, three times in row, I'm starting to think that this is a sign. Don't you _Jasmee_?"

He held her gaze and smiled down at her genuinely despite his teasing tone, and Jasmine could feel her stomach churned unexpectedly at the nickname.

_Butterflies._

Jasmine didn't really remember what she said next after that. All she knew was that she'd be damned if anyone could hear how loud her heart was thumping against her chest.

_September 3rd, 2012_

The sky was slowly turning colour from crystal clear blue into a brownish gold colour, much the same like all the leaves on the trees around him. People, some lost in their own thoughts with ears plugges with music to momentarily blocked the world, were passing through the big, majestic pathway in the middle of the park. In the corner of his eyes Harry could make out an elderly couple sitting peacefully on the bench, not far away from where he was standing – the same couple that he always saw every time he came there.

The park was always beautiful at this hour, Harry knew. It had become his personal gateway. It was the one time and the one place where people saw through him; too preoccupied with their own world to care about his and he had the chance to be the one observing, to be the one intrigued and astonished.

Harry found a sense of peace in it all; one second of serenity in his exhilarating, exhausting life and it was his and his only. He never shared it with anyone – not even Louis or Lou or Gem.

Until today.

It didn't seem to matter that the sunset was glowing behind him, that people with different intriguing worlds were passing by around him, that the leaves were gold and the wind was gentle; all Harry could see were the faint freckles on Jasmine's face and her clear, transparent brown eyes.

He didn't know what had made him to take here there. He didn't understand what it was about her that make him so – content. He was showing his vulnerable side, so fast and so out of his control and it terrified him more than anything.

She seemed to understand.

She seemed to understand that what she was seeing was a glimpse of his side that he never got to show a lot of people.

And Harry could see that she understood because she was looking at him with this _look _on her face and this _smile _on her lips and this _twinkle _in her eyes.

Her lashes were the last thing he saw before he kissed her.

And Harry could almost swore he had never felt anything more breathtaking and terrifying, both at the same time.

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**Feel free to leave your thoughts!**

**xx. ags**


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